


How You Will Heal & You'll Rise Above

by VolarFinch



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: (Also a Tubbo Apologist), Angst, Character Analysis, Crying, Dave | Technoblade and Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, Dead Wilbur Soot, Dream Smp, Exile, Exile Day, Gen, Ghost Wilbur Soot, Ghostbur, Ghostbur doesn't understand the situation, Hopeful Ending, Hurt No Comfort, I have a lot of feelings about this arc fellas, I wrote this in an hour and a half fugue state, Let Tommy Be Selfish 2020, Let Tommy Cry 2020, Not really anyways whoops, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Sobbing, Suicidal Ideation, TommyInnit Angst (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit Apologist Right Here, TommyInnit Misses Toby Smith | Tubbo, Upsetting Thoughts, briefly, post november 16th
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:28:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27886783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VolarFinch/pseuds/VolarFinch
Summary: He moves his toes, taking in the sand between his feet to try and stop his spiraling thoughts. His breathing is loud in his ears, his chest coiling tighter and tighter. His eyes burn with unshed tears, blurring the dark waters.I don’t know what I’m going to do,Tommy thinks. His hands clench and unclench around his stone sword (it’s too light in his hands).I thought it was supposed to be us, always.The water laps at his feet, curling around his ankles. He feels his chest rise and fall, deeply aware of his own breathing, of the siren call back to L’Manberg. It twists in his chest, and burrows into his throat, climbing and climbing. He clamps his jaw shut to keep it in, to keep it locked away, to keep it gone, to keep it together––The scream that tears through his lips is unholy.| Or, Tommy and his first night in exile alone
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & TommyInnit, Dave | Technoblade & TommyInnit & Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson, Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, NOT ship - Relationship, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 20
Kudos: 437





	How You Will Heal & You'll Rise Above

**Author's Note:**

> OH BOY OH FUCK TODAY'S STREAMS, HUH??? JUST??? ALL OF THAT?? AT ONCE??? MMMMMMMMMMMMMM, LOSING MY SHIT HERE Y'ALL.
> 
> Anyways I could NOT get over how Tommy seemed to be on the verge of crying the entire serious rp and I decided he fucking deserves to let his emotions out. Also I've become a shameless TommyInnit apologist (and Tubbo, too, leave the kid alone, he's not JSchlatt 2: Electric Bungaloo), and this whole situation is so complicated and morally grey that to say any one side is right or wrong seems like… incorrect to me.
> 
> Tommy has his points. Tubbo has his points. They're both right, in their respective ways, and it's because of this that they're at conflict.
> 
> ALSO: It's fandom etiquette to keep fandom stuff WITHIN the fandom. The creators don't owe us anything and are their own independent people. If they want the fic/fics in general taken down, then the fic will be taken down.
> 
> FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DO NOT MENTION THIS TO THE CONTENT CREATORS AND THIS IS NOT SHIP. I CANNOT STRESS BOTH OF THESE POINTS ENOUGH, AND THE FACT THAT I HAVE TO IS WORRYING. This is me writing about the CHARACTERS and NOT the Real People.
> 
> Anyways, please enjoy! ˆˆ;;
> 
> Title of fic taken from "Achilles Come Down" by Gang of Youth.

It’s later, when Ghostbur is gone, when Tommy's left with only himself and his shitty stone tools, that it all boils to a peak.

There had been times throughout the past several days that Tommy wanted to break––when being forced to leave his home at sword–point, when Ghostbur didn’t understand, when Dream destroyed their stuff, when Technoblade laughed at him––but he didn’t allow himself to. He wasn’t a little bitch. He wasn’t going to _cry_ in front of people, especially Dream and Technoblade. He wasn’t going to _cry_ in front of Ghostbur, who just… didn’t get it. He wasn’t going to cry when Tubbo met his gaze, unwavering, and said, “Goodbye, Tommy.”

He didn’t allow himself to cry back then. He doesn’t allow himself to cry, period, end of statement. Crying doesn’t get him anywhere. He has things he could be doing instead of crying.

Except now he doesn’t.

Now he doesn’t have… anything.

The water laps at his feet as he stands in front of the ocean. He can’t see any other landmarks in the distance––no hints of the islands and continents they crossed to get him here (nowhere). The moon is missing from the sky, and the stars twinkle at him silently, judgingly. He can hear the groan of mobs behind him, the chittering of spiders and the creaking of skeletons, but he doesn’t care.

Ghostbur had vanished to wherever he existed when he wasn’t in the Overworld a few hours ago. “The After,” he’d called it. Tommy wishes he could go with him. Briefly, he wishes he was dead. Maybe then the agony in his heart would die with him. Maybe he’d be happy–go–lucky like Ghostbur, fading between remembrance and not.

(Maybe people would miss him if he was dead.)

He moves his toes, taking in the sand between his feet to try and stop his spiraling thoughts. His breathing is loud in his ears, his chest coiling tighter and tighter. His eyes burn with unshed tears, blurring the dark waters.

_I don’t know what I’m going to do,_ Tommy thinks. His hands clench and unclench around his stone sword (it’s too light in his hands). _I thought it was supposed to be us, always._

The water laps at his feet, curling around his ankles. He feels his chest rise and fall, deeply aware of his own breathing, of the siren call back to L’Manberg. It twists in his chest, and burrows into his throat, climbing and climbing. He clamps his jaw shut to keep it in, to keep it locked away, to keep it gone, to keep it _together_ ––

The scream that tears through his lips is unholy. It claws at his throat, ragged and _raw_ , and he doesn’t stop screaming even when the air has left his lungs. He screams so loudly, so _painfully_ , the world seems to stutter and stumble at the sound. His lungs burn for air, and his scream is cut off with a ragged sob. He drops his head to the floor, eyes squeezed tight, trying to ignore how _aware_ he is of the tears staining his cheeks. Every inhale is interrupted by a sob, thick and hoarse, his wails unnatural even to his own ears. His knees shake and finally give up on him; his fingers curl into the sand as it digs into his scraped knees. 

He feels unbearably small as he curls deeper into himself, trying to hide his tears and anguish from the world, and he wishes it would all _stop_ . Just for a fucking moment. Let a man fucking _breathe_.

He wishes Tubbo had never become president, had never joined Schlatt’s side, had never gotten caught up in this, had never promised to be there for Tommy no matter what, had never lied to his face and said they’d always have each other’s backs, had never said _goodbye_ . He wishes Wilbur hadn’t begged for death, hadn’t given into his insanity, hadn’t made that deal with Dream, hadn’t pressed the button, hadn’t given up on L’Manberg (on him). He wishes Technoblade hadn’t betrayed them (him), hadn’t fed Wilbur’s insanity, hadn’t released those Withers, hadn’t shots those fireworks at Tubbo, hadn’t fucking come to this fucking server. He wishes Philza hadn’t taken one look at him and his country and sided with the man who helped obliterate it, had sided with _him_ for once, had prioritized his youngest as someone who wants and deserves care.

(Is he just that hard to love? Is he just too terrible to deserve it?)

Tommy wishes for so much. (He knows he won’t get it.)

The ocean rises to meet his clenched fists, wraps around the cuts and bruises and scrapes he’s gathered while traveling. It soaks into his sleeves and shorts as he sits there, hands clenched into tight fists, shoulders shaking, breathing hitched and uneven.

Nothing can go right for him. Nothing can work for him. He has to be the one to give everything up––his discs, his pets, his home, his morals, his beliefs, his promises, his _everything._ Tommy has to give up _everything_ , constantly, all the time, in order for the world to turn, for the lull of peace to settle, for everyone else to be happy. Why is it always at the expense of him? Why does _he_ have to give everything up? Why is he _selfish_ when he doesn’t want to give something up?

Why is no one ever on his side?

Not Wilbur, not Tubbo, not Technoblade, not Philza, not Quackity, not Fundy, not Eret, not––just. Not.

Tommy sits there, curled into as small of a ball that he can manage, and he lets himself cry himself hoarse. He cries so loudly, so painfully, that no mob dares approach him. He lets the ocean soak him to the bone (cold, empty, freezing), and weather his stone sword useless. He sits there, exposing his broken heart to the world, and lets himself fall apart for the night.

He sits there until the sun crests over the horizon, his sobs having faded away hours before, his eyes tired with grief and sleeplessness, his voice scratchy from the abuse he put it through the entire night. He sits there, absorbing the sun as it rises.

Once it crests the horizon, he follows suit.

And just like every other day, every other tragedy, every other incident that scars his skin and burns his heart, he gets back up. 

He gets back up.

* * *

(And later, when Tommy is exploring the caves below their campsite, mining away his loneliness and heartache, telling Wilbur the redness of his eyes is from exhaustion and the hoarseness of his voice is from a cold, that he’s _a big man, he’s fine,_ if Wilbur whispers Technoblade a simple, _I think Tommy was crying last night,_ over the communicators, well, Tommy doesn’t have to know that.

And later, when Technoblade sees that message and stares at it with those mixed feelings of satisfaction at having been right and irritation at the world and the ways it wishes to break his family, he sighs and thinks not of Theseus, but Patroclus, the man who gave up everything for those he loved, no matter the costs, and paid the price for it. And if he grabs Orphan Obliterator, if he tells Philza he’s coming out of retirement, if he begs to whatever gods that may be that Tommy might _finally_ see where Technoblade is coming from for once, well, Tommy doesn’t have to know that, either.)

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot stress enough that Tommy being compared to Patroclus is NOT a romantic reference, it is more in reference to Patroclus's death and how he gave up everything for Achilles, who in this case can be replaced by just about anybody, be it Tubbo or Wilbur or Technoblade.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!! Comments are greatly appreciated!!
> 
> And again, PLEASE do not reference, mention, or show this to the content creators!! It's fandom etiquette to keep fandom stuff WITHIN the fandom. The creators don't owe us anything and are their own independent people––if they want these fics taken down, then the fics will be taken down.


End file.
